


Breaking in the Living Room

by dugindeep (hotsauce)



Series: moving-in [1]
Category: CW Network RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Barebacking, Bottom Jared, Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:48:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1745168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotsauce/pseuds/dugindeep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen isn't too keen on moving day until Jared points out the one great advantage to having a new place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking in the Living Room

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dephigravity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dephigravity/gifts).



> Written for the [30-Day OTP Porn Challenge](http://enablelove.livejournal.com/493079.html); Day 1: Anal Sex.

Jensen drops a box on the wood floor of the living room and looks around. There are dozens more like it piled in random spots throughout the space and into the dining room. He can count another five on the kitchen counter and he winces.

Jared comes in behind him, sets another two boxes on top of the one Jensen just brought, and Jensen winces _again_ , this time with a sigh.

With a frown, Jared carefully sets his hands to Jensen’s back. “You pull something?”

“No, I’m fine,” he replies, even while scowling at the boxes and leaning back into Jared’s hands. “Just … so, many, boxes.”

"This is the last one."

"But, they're like, everywhere."

Jared chuckles and lightly smacks Jensen’s ass as he moves around him to the kitchen. “That’s what happens when you move!” he calls out over his shoulder.

“Yeah, but, it could’ve been so much less if you’d just moved in with me."

"Not my fault you have too much shit."

Jensen drops onto his heavenly couch with the wide and deep cushions, so perfectly big and soft that he could sleep on it every night. And he did, long before he upgraded from a studio into the one-bedroom he’d kept for the last nine years.

He actually wept a few tears when he realized he couldn’t convince Jared to move in and had to give up the place he’d carved out as home for nearly a decade. He was just really attached to the fortieth-floor spot he’d inherited from a friend who got married soon out of college. It had a great view of the lake and was walking distance from the beach.

But now they are in the _suburbs_ , where married people go to have kids and yards and sleepovers.

Jared lands on the cushion next to Jensen and swings his leg up and across Jensen’s lap. “It would’ve been even less if you moved into _my_ place.”

Jensen frowns, even as Jared offers him his beer to share. “Are we doing this again?”

“I’m not,” Jared replies with a pert smile. “You are.”

“But why the suburbs?”

“We talked about this,” Jared says slowly, as if talking to a child, which perhaps Jensen is acting like, “And we got a lot more space for our money here than Downtown.”

With a sigh, Jensen looks across the living room and out the large picture window. All he can see outside are kids riding bikes and fighting with hockey sticks like tiny medieval jousters. “But it’s the _suburbs_ ,” he grumbles. “With kids to get off my lawn, and yards to mow, and Girl Scout cookies to buy.”

Jared laughs and grabs the beer back. “Girl Scout cookies are not to be tinkered with. Thin Mints are the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

Jensen lifts his eyebrow in judgment then finds himself smirking at Jared. “The best thing ever?”

“Well,” Jared scoffs while eying Jensen’s crotch. “That’s been a few other places that I prefer, so it’s hard a decision.”

“Oh, it's definitely hard,” Jensen replies, jutting his eyebrows up and down.

Laughing, Jared leans forward and kisses Jensen. It’s a bit too quick for Jensen’s preferences, but Jared stays close when Jensen tugs him back in. “I know you hate all the boxes, but you know what’s really great about moving?”

“Never finding a damn thing for months?” Jensen guesses.

Jared shifts to Jensen’s side and runs his nose up Jensen’s neck, breathing lightly into his ear to say, “Christening every room.”

“God, no,” Jensen groans while tipping his head back, “It’s the not finding shit for months because who knows where the lube is?”

In seconds, Jared is up and across the room, leaving Jensen in confusion, especially when Jared rips a box open and triumphantly shows off a bottle of lube.

“How did you do that?”

Jared spins the box around and taps at the letters **LB** with a broad smile. “You just gotta mark your stuff.

Jensen glances around to a handful of other boxes with **LB** on the side and drops his head back with a laugh, knowing that he’d come across another four or five boxes with the same markings. “I was wondering what that was.” Moments later, he has a lapful of Jared and his hands full of Jared’s hair as he pulls him down to kiss. “You’re a freaking genius.”

In between kisses that grow hungrier and deeper, Jared murmurs, “A genius who wants to christen the couch.”

“Mmm, of course,” Jensen mumbles against Jared’s mouth, trying so hard to not break the kiss. “Another great thing about moving day … easy clothes.” He punctuates the statement by quickly tugging Jared’s basketball shorts and boxers down from his ass to the knees then doing the same for his own sweatpants and undershorts. 

He’s already hard, so he hardly cares that Jared is more concerned with opening the bottle of lube than taking care of him. Besides, he’s got Jared hot and sweaty right in front of him so he grabs his shoulder to bring him close and mouths along the opening of Jared’s dusty, old v-neck t-shirt.

Jared moans this high, pitiful noise that tells Jensen he’s growing impatient himself. “Here, c’mon,” he whines. He grabs one of Jensen’s hands and squeezes lube onto his fingers then leans forward with his hands resting on the back of the couch.

Jensen quickly pushes his fingers in halfway, two together and lubed up, slightly caring about how harsh Jared’s breathing and whines are. There is plenty of time for pleasant foreplay later, and he’s sure Jared knows it because now Jared is quickly pushing back on Jensen’s hand and telling him to hurry up. Which he does, probably with the barest amount of finesse they’ve ever witnessed in the seven years they’ve been together.

Jared strokes himself to maintain his erection through the pain and Jensen just stares up into Jared’s flushed face with a crazy amount of care, sympathy, and love. And admiration because Jared now insists that he’s ready, even when Jensen is sure he isn’t.

Still, Jensen has a hard time saying no to Jared’s insistence—see: buying a home in the _suburbs_ —so he lubes up his own dick, painfully hard now and dying for attention, and brings Jared down to slowly seat himself in Jensen’s lap.

It feels impossibly tight and oh-so-perfect at the same time, and he tightly wraps his arms around Jared’s waist and rests his head against Jared's shoulder. He breathes heavily, perhaps heavier than Jared, and awaits Jared’s sign to go.

“Oh God,” Jared hisses, “This is definitely my favorite thing to have inside me.”

Jensen laughs, followed by Jared, and they ease into a slow rhythm as Jared adjusts to Jensen filling him so deeply. Jensen, on the other hand, relishes the slow rock of Jared’s hips and the tiny clench of Jared's hole whenever he sets his ass back down to Jensen’s thighs. Jensen moves his head over to claim Jared’s lips and soon they’re just mumbling random syllables into each other’s mouths as Jensen digs his fingers into Jared’s hips and guides him in a faster tempo.

When Jared starts fisting his own dick, his mouth runs wild like always. A litany of _fuck, yes, god, shit, baby, ohhhhh yes_ in all sorts of combinations with the purr of his voice going deeper the closer he gets to finishing. And Jensen begins fucking his hips up into Jared, smacking his thighs against the meat of Jared’s ass and driving deeper and deeper, faster and faster, until he can’t control the pace.

Then Jensen’s fingers clamp down on Jared’s hips, fingernails digging into skin, and he pushes himself up and tugs down so that Jared is completely filled with him. He releases a long, rough breath and comes in Jared’s ass, shaking with a deep rumble in his chest, pure satisfaction.

Jared sits back, still full with Jensen, and moves a quick fist over his dick until he’s done and shooting across the front of his own shirt. The blue shirt has already suffered paint and grease stains, and Jensen now chuckles at the thought of the new stain that might stay with the fabric for a long while. It'll be a fond reminder, he's sure. 

Jensen loosely rings his arms around Jared’s waist and leans forward to rest his forehead on Jared’s chest as they both catch their breath.

“Well, that’s the living room,” Jared says.

Jensen counts up the rest of the rooms and even tacks on the patio and hall closet, because why not. “One down, seven to go.”

"Don't forget the shed out back."

Another chuckle and Jensen sucks a kiss at the joint of Jared's shoulder and neck. "Okay, eight."

Jared grabs the side of Jensen’s face and pulls him back so they can kiss. “See, moving’s pretty awesome.”

“I’m beginning to see the upside,” Jensen says then falls into another long, languid kiss.

Far away, somewhere down the block, he hears the tell-tale dinky music of the ice cream truck, which sets him back to his childhood with manicured lawns, the bright and yellow sun, and chasing that music down the street to enjoy a strawberry shortcake pop. And now he’s got Jared with him to experience it all.

Especially the ice cream man. Jared’s already getting excited for that, and Jared excited for anything instantly turns any frown upside down. 

"I could go for a rainbow pop," Jared says. "You want anything?"

So, Jensen thinks that they just might make it here. In the suburbs. Go figure.


End file.
